


during eternity

by yoonminoml (fanficloverme96)



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Kuon centric, La Danse Macabre AU, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Reincarnation, based on the first ending where libel lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficloverme96/pseuds/yoonminoml
Summary: Kuon slows to a stop. He settles for watching Kabane from afar, noticing that the man is brooding again as he stares off into the distance. If Kabane notices Kuon staring at him, he doesn’t make a show of acknowledging it.Years ago, Kuon would have called out to Kabane. Now, he just lets the silence stretch in between them.-Before Kuon and Kabane's fallout and the day the Unknown were finally allowed to leave the stage of death, there were the days in between.
Relationships: Izumi Iori/Nanase Riku, Kabane/Kuon (IDOLiSH7)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	during eternity

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is based on the first ending where Libel lives.
> 
> Spoilers from the event apply.

There is a cup of tea on the table.

“Good morning, Kuon-san!” Konoe greets cheerfully, “I made breakfast for you. I ran out of ingredients so it’s a little plain, but once the traveling merchant reaches our area, I’ll restock some spices.”

Kuon gives him a small, quiet smile. “Thank you, Konoe.” He eyes the empty seat beside him. “Is Kabane not eating?”

Konoe laughs nervously. “Ah, he woke up early this morning and ate before you. He’s outside somewhere probably. Do you need him for something?”

Kuon shakes his head. “No...it was just a question. I’ll eat well, Konoe.”

“En! Please do!”

Kuon watches as Konoe heads outside, probably preparing to begin his chores for the day. Out of the three of them, Konoe is the only one who is competent in these things. Kuon feels bad for not being able to help, but the last time he did it, he ended up killing the crops and breaking all the precious pottery. Kuon is still convinced Konoe is holding a grudge against him for it.

He finishes his modest breakfast and puts the empty plate into the wash basin for Konoe to attend to later. Going to the entrance of their small shack, Kuon slips on his boots before crouching down to lace them. He stands up and walks out of the room.

For the past 1000 years he had been alive, Kuon developed a simple routine. Every morning after a simple breakfast, he would take walks around the underground area he calls his home. 1000 years ago, the space had felt like a city, with the surviving remnants of Kabane’s country as its residents. Now, in this large empty space with only the three of them left, Kuon is very well aware of the emptiness that seems to echo off the cliffs that act as the surrounding walls.

He walks past the empty houses and empty plots of land that used to serve as farms. Konoe had tried to use most of them, but too many farms would be too hard for a single person to bear so all the unused lands ended up growing weeds as a reminder of their neglect to the underground city’s remaining inhabitants. There is a lake in the middle of the city and years ago, it used to be filled with fish.

Now, the water remains still, making Kuon’s unchanging reflection too clear for his liking.

Kuon lifts his head towards a certain cliff - well, to call it a cliff would be a stretch, he admits. It’s more of a raised ground; a hill, perhaps, that housed a single dried up well and a wooden rocking chair Konoe had built from scratch for an old grandmother who used to live with them.

Now, the one who frequently uses that rocking chair is Kabane. 

Kuon slows to a stop. He settles for watching Kabane from afar, noticing that the man is brooding again as he stares off into the distance. If Kabane notices Kuon staring at him, he doesn’t make a show of acknowledging it. 

Years ago, Kuon would have called out to Kabane. Now, he just lets the silence stretch in between them. 

There is that familiar pang in his chest again, but unlike before, it’s muted enough that it has grown bearable over the years. It doesn’t make Kuon stumble on his feet or bring tears to his eyes. It simply makes him sigh wistfully and dims the smile on his face.

Many, many years ago, both the silence and distance did not exist between Kuon and Kabane. Now, those are all they could notice whenever they’re in the proximity of each other. 

“I wonder...when you’ll look at me the same way you did all those years ago,” Kuon whispers, “...Kabane.”

_950 years ago_

Kuon found Kabane at his usual lookout spot at the edge of the city. The former King ended up noticing him climbing the ladder and readily extended an arm to help him up.

“What are you doing here?” Kabane asked with a raised eyebrow, “Is anyone looking for me?”

“Yep!” Kuon said cheerfully, “Me!”

Kabane blinked before shaking his head exasperatedly. “Really, now. You couldn’t wait until I got home?”

“I’m curious, is all. It’s been several decades since we’ve built this city and yet you continue to faithfully wait here every now and then to look out for any danger.” Kuon tilted his head in curiosity. “We’re underground. What danger could we possibly face?”

“Maybe not _outside_ force, but inner conflicts still happen, you know.”

“Oh, so you solve fights and brawls?”

“When I have to.”

Kuon leaned against him as they shared the bench. “Sounds _dangerous_.”

“Your tone tells me you’re mocking me, but you’re literally incapable of fighting, so I won’t take offence.”

Kuon pouted. “I was just teasing you.” He peered at Kabane, giving the man a brilliant smile. “I think you’re very cool. You really look like a king overseeing his subjects.”

“That’s because I _am_ the king,” Kabane pointed out, “Though with the declining rate of people, maybe my name will be forgotten in several more decades.”

His words made Kuon pause and before he could stop himself, he was already looking. He looked at the line of slightly discolored skin around Kabane’s throat and wrists - where the skin once rotted during the peak of Kuon’s curse ravaging through the king’s body - before his gaze flickered to his own bandaged arm, the white strips of fabric covering the tattoo of Nerve’s holy mark eternally branded onto his skin. 

Eternal as their bodies, now unable to die after the removal of Kuon’s curse.

“Do you regret it?” Kuon asked softly, “Saving me?”

“No,” Kabane said, “And that would be the 999th time you’ve asked me that question.”

“Perhaps on the 1000th, you’ll finally say yes,” Kuon replied weakly.

Kabane gave him a steady look. “Do you want me to?”

“I _want_ you to be honest with me.” The smile slipped from Kuon’s face entirely. “You...when you rescued me all those years ago, you were the first one to show me what the world looked like. And there isn’t a day I’m not grateful to you. I just...I just want to reassure myself that...my feelings aren’t just me being selfish.”

Kabane surprised Kuon with a light push against the boy’s temple. Kuon looked at Kabane with startled eyes and Kabane took that opportunity to speak. 

“None of us could have anticipated the consequences of undoing your curse, Kuon. And yet, I don’t regret it. I wanted to free you and that feelings have not changed. You can ask me the same question over and over again, and I will give you the same answer.”

The hand on Kuon’s temple now moved to lightly pat the boy’s hair. 

“Wanting to be free from the fate you once had is not selfish, Kuon. And well...what happened to us is unfortunate but…” Kabane smiled gently at Kuon. “We have each other, don’t we? And Konoe as well. We’ll get through it together.”

Kuon leaned into Kabane’s touch, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “I’m glad I met you, Kabane,” he said with a shaky voice, “I was glad then, and will continue to feel the same way for years to come.”

Kabane’s smile was so gentle that it made it harder for Kuon to hold back his tears.

“And I you,” Kabane murmured.

Kuon climbs up the hill anyway, but keeps a safe distance away. In the silence that stretches on between them, the sound of Kuon’s boots crunching against the gravel is the only thing that breaks it. The underground city has always been quiet - they’re far enough from the surface that even birds rarely venture into here - but has this silence always been deafening?

He takes small, careful steps. Kabane is still not looking at him. The closer he steps towards Kabane, the louder the creak of the rocking chair becomes. Kabane does not stop staring ahead. Kuon finds himself wondering about the thoughts passing through Kabane’s mind at this very moment.

When Kuon stops right behind Kabane, the man still does not spare him a glance.

“Good morning,” Kuon says softly, “...Kabane.”

It is a greeting that remains unanswered. Many years ago, Kabane had let a certain question go by the same way.

_900 years ago_

Konoe closed the door behind him with a thud. For once, the man looked weary and subdued, and Kuon did not have to guess the reason behind such expressions.

“Grandmother died,” Konoe said, “...her body could not withstand the disease.” 

“...I see.” ‘Grandmother’ referred to a close neighbor of theirs who used to send the trio food and knitted clothes back when she was healthy. Ever since her body was ravaged by an unknown disease, she had been bedridden, fighting endless feverish nights before the disease finally took her life today. “I’m sorry, Konoe. I know you’re the closest with her.”

“She lived a long life,” Konoe said, teary-eyed, “I knew her ever since I was just a cadet. I’m just happy she managed to be around this long.”

Kuon offered Kabane a pat on the back, unable to say anything else. Unlike Konoe, Kuon’s memories with the people of Kabane’s country began from the day he lived with the surviving remnants in this underground city. There were some memories he had no part of and it was this instance where Kuon felt a little more like an outsider than he already was.

He didn’t say all of those out loud. Konoe already had enough things to worry about.

“Where is Kabane?” Kuon asked as soon as Konoe calmed down slightly. 

“He’s handling the funeral.” Konoe sniffled a little. “You can find him down south, where Grandmother used to sit and knit her clothes.”

“The rocking chair?”

“Mm.”

“Okay, thank you, Konoe.” He patted his friend’s back once more. “I’ll be here if you need to talk, alright?”

Konoe gave him a watery gaze. “Thank you, Kuon-san.” 

Kabane wasn’t looking at him when Kuon found him at the place Konoe said Kabane would be at. He was crouched down on the ground, his eyes fixed on the lump of soil in front of him. Kuon’s eyes strayed to the headstone at the end, reading the carved inscription on it.

“Kabane,” Kuon called out softly, “Are you okay?”

Kabane finally spared him a glance. It took Kuon by surprise when he saw how desolate his eyes looked that it stunned Kuon into silence.

“There are less than 10 of us left, you know,” Kabane said, “With the disease that’s raging through our people, everyone is falling sick left and right, with the exception of us.” He turned back to the grave, his fingers lightly tracing the soil. “Babies don’t survive very long, either. I won’t be surprised that…”

He looked up towards the crack in the ceiling, where a glimpse of the ground and the outside world could be seen.

“Give another few decades or so, if we’re lucky, there might be only the three of us left.”

That shook Kuon out from his silence. “Kabane, I -”

He was interrupted by a mirthless chuckle from the former king. “It’s times like these where I wonder if my actions a century ago are finally being punished by the heavens. To give me eternity…” He looked at Kuon with the same bleak gaze. “In exchange for slowly wiping out my people.”

Kuon could feel a tremor running through his body. He had a dream like this several times throughout the years he had spent with Kabane and Konoe. In those dreams, Kabane was giving him the expression.

But now, it was no longer a dream. And although it had been a good long while since Kuon last asked the question, so much that it terrified him to ask it again, Kuon opened his mouth and forced out the question. 

Asked for the 1000th time.

“Do you regret it, Kabane? Saving me?”

Despite Kabane’s promise all those years ago, 

Kabane ended up never answering that question.

“How long has it been since we last talked?” Kuon muses, “It’s probably been about...500 years or so, hasn’t it?”

Although Kabane continues to give him nothing but silence, he also does not explicitly show that he minds Kuon’s presence. It’s a very rare change - Kabane must be in a decent mood and Kuon would be a fool to not take advantage of it today. He sits down on the ground beside Kabane and brings his knees to his chest. 

“Perhaps you might scold me or think that I am silly for keeping track of such mundane things, but with nothing but eternity for us, ironically...keeping track of time makes it pass much faster for me. Though Konoe might say the opposite.”

The chair continues to rock front and back beside him. Kabane is like a statue - or a puppet, its strings cut loose by its master, now slumped on the place where it had been abandoned - on the chair. If Kuon dares to look at the man’s face, he might have spent his passing seconds counting how many times Kabane blinks.

As the years pass by, Kabane seems to increasingly embody the meaning of his name.

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to speak of your feelings,” Kuon says, “The last time we’ve exchanged words...I suppose we just proved that actions speak much louder, didn’t we?”

He looks up at the ceiling, where a sliver of the grey sky from above can be seen. When was the last time he saw the sky at its full glory?

“But still,” he murmurs, “It doesn’t mean I do not miss it.”

_800 years ago_

  
  


The very last death that signalled the end of Kabane’s people had been a little girl.

Her death hit Kabane the hardest because she had the only baby that survived the disease that killed the rest of his people; her parents included. Her survival had given Kabane hope that perhaps one day, his people will flourish once more as soon as the girl began her own family - be it here in the underground city, or even the ground. If she had wanted to live with the now flourishing Ark city floating in the sky, Kabane had been ready to let go of his pride to fulfill her wish, as long as she could live another day.

And yet,

On the 200th year since Kuon, Kabane and Konoe turned immortal, the little girl survived up til her 12th birthday. A week later, she began to show the first symptoms of the disease that killed everyone else. 

Despite Kabane’s best efforts to heal her, the little girl died barely two weeks later. 

“Don’t go yet,” Konoe cautioned, “Kabane-san, he...the last time I saw him, he didn’t look so well. It’s best if you let him grieve by himself.”

The rational part of Kuon understood this. With the exception of Konoe, Kabane had essentially lost every single one of his people. What is a king without his people? And yet with the eternity he was given, he could not even let go of that title. He could not let go of his existence.

Kuon _should_ leave Kabane alone for the day.

But his heart said otherwise. Hastily apologizing to Konoe, Kuon rushed past him and ran out of the shack they live in, heading straight for where the girl was buried. He ignored the rapid thumping of his heart and the sinking feeling in his gut as he continued to run towards his destination. Everything will be alright, he told himself.

Kabane, he...they will get through this together. Like they had always been….right?

Kabane was standing by the edge of the lake when Kuon found him. Beside him was the girl’s grave, marked by a single flower laid upon the soil. Kuon slowed down to a stop, his chest rising and falling a little quicker than before as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Kabane,” he called out, “Kabane, I -”

“Leave me alone,” Kabane replied curtly, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

His words lanced through Kuon’s heart. The boy found himself digging his nails into his palms to steady himself from the growing waves of anxiety and unease threatening to make him lose his balance. 

“I’m sorry,” Kuon blurted out.

Kabane’s shoulders tensed.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked quietly.

“The girl...I know you wanted her to live,” Kuon murmured, “I...I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to prevent her death.”

Kabane chuckled in response, but it is one with humor. One without any trace of hope. One that sent chills down Kuon’s spine and amplified the waves of unease inside his heart.

“What _could_ have you done?” Kabane questioned, “Your words implied that… the disease that took my people away from me and prevented any chance for them to rise and prosper once more, could have been prevented. Like it could be undone.” Kabane finally turned around to look at him and Kuon’s struck to the core when he saw what awaited him.

Kabane’s wearing the same bleak expression as he did 100 years ago and as the years went by as more of his people died, but now, it seemed as though that bleakness had amplified tenfold. There had been at least a flicker of hope during the years before.

Now, all Kuon could see were dark voids of misery. It shook Kuon to the core and prevented him from running away from the giant wave of anxiety that finally crashed down onto him.

“Though now that you mentioned it...perhaps it could have been,” Kabane said dully, “Perhaps...all those years ago...if I never attempted to break your curse -”

Kuon’s strangled gasp was what stopped Kabane, but only for a moment, before the man gave him a faint smile - a ghost of the warm and gentle one he used to frequently give to Kuon. The smile that faded away over the years.

Kuon didn’t want to see him smile at him once more - not like this.

“Do you remember that question you asked me...one that I never answered?” Kabane asked.

“Please don’t,” Kuon whispered, “Kabane -”

Kabane stepped forward. Kuon found himself stepping back. The former Tenshi tried to cover his ears - to deny him of the truth he had always known - but Kabane, his face devoid of any emotion but bleak unhappiness - grabbed his hands and forced them to his sides.

“Here’s my answer, Kuon.”

Kuon shook his head. “Kabane, _don’t_ -”

“I regret it,” Kabane said with a note of finality, “I wished I never took you out from that cage of yours. I wished you would have stayed miserable… so I wouldn’t have to be miserable in your place.”

The headstone that once marked the grave that Kabane and Kuon sit in front of had long crumbled into dust despite Konoe’s best efforts to preserve it. In many ways, Kuon envies it. For the past 1000 years, he would be lying if he did not have dreams where he too could crumble into dust and fade away, carrying his regrets with him.

Those dreams had been nightmares, at first. These days, Kuon welcomes them.

The pair - once a King and a Tenshi, now jaded and world-weary immortals - continue to sit in silence. 

“I stopped counting, you know,” Kuon says. He is always the first to break the silence, despite having grown used to its presence. But see, there is always a difference between getting used to something and liking it, and Kuon has never learned to like the latter.

During his time as the Tenshi, silence was his only companion in the room he was trapped in. It was the only thing he allowed to accompany him, because the other option would be loneliness and he knew such emotions would only cause him pain. 

But now that he knows of other companions, he becomes less willing to let silence hold his hand. 

“I stopped counting how many times I asked you that question,” Kuon continues, “But then again, I don’t need to. I have stopped asking since then.” Kuon dares himself to look at Kabane, the smile on his face brittle. “I already have the answer I needed.”

Kabane continues to stare ahead, though Kuon thinks he sees something flickering in the man’s desolate gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just babbling nonsense, aren’t I?” Kuon says, “I should go.”

He rises to his feet and dusts off the dirt from his clothes. He turns around on his heels and takes a step forward.

He hears a voice.

“Where are you going?”

Kuon closes his eyes. It’s a rare moment, one that he can only imagine happening again in his dreams, so he cherishes it for as long as he can. After this - as soon as Kuon walks away from this hill - Kabane will never speak to him again for a very long time.

“To the surface,” he says.

He steps forward again, effectively ending the short instance of a miracle where Kabane has decided to briefly acknowledge him once more.

_500 years ago_

Over the past few centuries since the little girl’s death, Kabane had spoken to Kuon less and less. Kuon knew it wasn’t his imagination because he noticed Kabane speaking normally to Konoe, but any words directed to Kuon seemed to be laced with irritation or anger. His words would be extremely curt and he would not speak any more necessary.

The first year it happened, Kuon had tried his best to make amends. After the first decade since it happened, Kuon had lost count how many times he begged for Kabane’s forgiveness and of the countless times Konoe had to pull him back to his feet when Kuon grovelled to the ground just so Kabane would spare him even just a glance.

It took a century for Kuon to finally give up. To finally let his tears dry whenever he thought of Kabane’s coldness towards him, their once close relationship shattered apart with Kuon powerless to stop it. As Kabane grew more and more distant from him, Kuon found himself letting that gap grow bigger and bigger.

“Are you sure it’s fine for you to let things go on like this?” Konoe asked one day, worry evident on his face, “You two used to be so close. I...Seeing you two like this, it breaks my heart, honestly.”

Konoe held back the tears that burned his eyes, focusing on the faded color of his boots instead.

“It breaks mine, too,” he whispered.

If this was punishment for his existence - for forcing Kabane and Konoe to share this life with him while everyone they knew and love perished around them - then Kuon -

One night, Kabane came home much later than usual.

Konoe had gone to sleep a few hours before and Kuon found himself unable to do the same. He stumbled into the kitchen area to get a glass of water and clear his head when he heard the door opening. Despite - or perhaps, _because_ of - knowing that there were only the three of them in this underground city, Kuon tensed immediately.

Until he saw who walked into the room.

“Kabane?” he called out hesitantly, “I - You just got home? I thought...you’ve gone to sleep already.”

“Kuon,” Kabane said. Kuon’s heart skipped a beat. How long has it been since Kabane properly called him by his name? Perhaps it was because that fact Kuon did not move from where he stood as Kabane approached him.

“Kabane…?” Kuon sniffed the air, furrowing his brows. “Have you...I smell…” He wrinkled his nose once he recognized the scent. “Alcohol. Have you been drinking?”

“I was talking to Uncle,” Kabane mumbled, “You...remember Uncle, don’t you? The old man who used to run the tavern.”

Kuon remembered Uncle. He was boisterous but friendly and he got along even with someone as reserved as Kabane. Konoe loved him to bits and was especially devastated when Uncle died. 

“By ‘talking’, you mean…?” Kuon trailed off.

Kabane had a wistful smile on his face. “We did some catching up...and all…”

Kabane was definitely drunk. Which was surprising in itself not because Kabane could not hold his liquor but because Kabane detested alcohol in the first place. For him to drink some now -

“You’re drunk,” Kuon said in a thin voice, “Let me help you get to bed - oof!”

Kabane abruptly pulled him into an embrace, his arms strong and firm around Kuon’s lean body. Pressed this close against Kabane, Kuon could smell the alcohol more strongly than before. Under that layer of alcohol, he could also smell the night air and the dusty scent of the soil, confirming Kuon’s suspicion.

Kabane just came home from visiting Uncle’s grave.

“I remember one time...Uncle told me something that I will never forget,” Kabane mumbled against Kuon’s shoulder.

“What was it?” Kuon asked quietly, “What did Uncle tell you?”

“He told me…” Kabane pulled back to look at Kuon. The desolate look in his eyes seemed to have gained a new fuzzy look in it, as though Kabane is looking at him but also not. There was the faint smell of fermented grapes washing over Kuon’s face that made his nose wrinkle even more. “...That if I have someone I care about...someone I love...I should make sure they don’t slip through my fingers.”

Kuon sucked in a breath. 

“Do you...have someone you love, Kabane?” he asked in a whisper.

The corner of Kabane’s lips pulled into a half-smile. “Once upon a time, yes. But now...that love has turned into something else.”

He leaned forward and kissed Kuon on the lips. Kuon did not even have the time to be surprised - Kabane’s hands were already in his hair, tugging his face forward and pressing Kuon’s body closer against Kabane. Their lips moved and slid against the other, with Kabane swallowing Kuon’s surprised squeak when he slipped his tongue past the former Tenshi’s lips.

Kuon knew of amorous acts such as kissing and even things beyond that. With nothing but the eternity stretched out in front of him, Kuon had spent his time reading books, including books that discussed such acts. He also listened to the excited chatter of both women and men alike especially when there was a wedding to be held. He was far from naive when it came to the ways of things.

But knowing and experiencing things were two different matters.

In a distant past, when things had been better between him and Kabane, Kuon may have fantasized every now and then. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Kabane; to feel the full extent of the man’s warmth against his own.

But now, those fantasies became a reality in ways Kuon did not anticipate. 

“Wait,” Kuon murmured against Kabane’s (soft, warm) lips, “Wait, Kabane. You’re _drunk -_ ”

“Do you not want to?” Kabane breathed, “Because I...I _really_ want to.”

Kuon swallowed. He could already feel a torrent of emotions rising from within him, making his chest squeeze with tightness and putting a lump in his throat. His eyes burned with unshed tears again. He should push Kabane away. He shouldn’t let this man who ignored him for the past century to suddenly come in here and request such a thing from him when he put Kuon through so much _misery_ for the past century -

“You’re so _unfair_ , Kabane,” Kuon sobbed, his mask cracking rapidly, “You’re so -”

He closed his eyes and kissed Kabane once more, pretending to not notice the curve of the man’s lips against his. 

Kuon did not register how they ended up stumbling into Kabane’s room, which was the furthest away from both Kuon’s and Konoe’s. He only remembered the mattress under him and Kabane’s weight on top of him, as well as Kabane’s insistent lips kissing him everywhere. He remembered Kabane’s touches that sent warm tingles down Kuon’s body, leaving a trail of fire in his nerves in their wake. 

Kabane’s skin was warm under his fingers and when Kabane’s lips moved from Kuon’s mouth to further downwards, Kuon placed his hands over his mouth to muffle the sounds he made - sounds he would never think to have come from him. 

“Why are you inhibiting your sounds?” Kabane asked, “Let me hear your voice.”

Kuon looked at him with teary eyes. “No.”

“Are you upset with me?” Kabane questioned softly, his eyes bright from the alcohol running in his veins even in the dimness of the room.

“I’m _frustrated_ with you,” Kuon said, “But I could never be angry at you.” His voice broke, betraying his emotions. “I hate the fact that I can’t.”

There was that lonely smile on Kabane’s face again. It made Kuon’s heart twinge, to the point that Kuon wanted to tear out his own heart for betraying him like this. For still hopelessly clinging on to the man who hurt him. For rendering him unable to feel anything remotely close to hatred towards him.

“You will,” Kabane murmured, “After tonight, you can hate me all you want.”

_I don’t want to._

Kuon never said those words out loud. Not even when Kabane finally thrusted into him, startling Kuon with the _pain_ that came from something invading his body like this. The pain did not manage to make Kuon more honest with his words - it only made him cling to Kabane tighter, as though he was trying to embrace all the pain Kabane had to offer so that when everything was over -

Kuon will not be hurt any longer.

Even when the pain eventually morphed into pleasure, even when Kuon’s moans grew louder and more uninhibited, Kuon never said those words out loud. If Kabane had something to say, Kuon never heard it. The only things they exchanged were passionate kisses shared to muffle the sounds that leaked into the mingling of breaths in between them.

They didn’t make love - to call the emotion that had been stretched out too thin and wrung out to the point that it was brittle and filled with cracks and bruises love would be too much of a lie. They were fulfilling a physical need. A desire to feel each other as much as they could. To catch a glimpse of the other with their walls temporarily torn down.

It was not love they felt for each other that night. They would never call it that. If there had been any emotion at all, it was merely desperation.

_“Kuon, Kuon, Kuon,”_ Kabane whispered as his movements grew frantic, _“Kuon -”_

Kuon could no longer hold back his tears. How he wished Kabane could say his name more. He craved it. He craved it _so much_.

They finished with a cry of the other’s name and arms holding each other close. When Kuon felt Kabane’s arms snake around his bare waist as the two lay side by side on the bed, Kuon turned around and dared himself to press himself closer against Kabane’s chest.

Kabane wrapped his arms around Kuon. Kuon tried his best to muffle his sobs.

“I hate you,” he whispered, “I hate you so much.”

Kabane’s lips nuzzled Kuon’s sweat-damped hair.

“Good. Keep hating me.”

After that night, the two stopped exchanging words. They stopped acknowledging each other. Kuon considered everything that came from it - from the tense silence in the room whenever they had to be around each other to Konoe’s growing concern towards his two friends - as part of the punishment.

For both himself and the man he desperately wished he could hate.

When was the last time Kuon went above ground? He could barely recognize his surroundings, and yet at the same time, he feels a wave of nostalgia crash onto him as soon as he looks up and sees the blue sky above him. In the distance, he sees the floating city of the Ark.

A few years ago, he remembers Konoe telling him that there were rumors from the ground that a new Tenshi was born after the last one died. That very Tenshi would be a child now, fated to live a life confined to his rooms until the higher ups deem it is time for him to be witnessed by the people.

Kuon quickly stomps on the feeling of pity that rears its head in Kuon’s heart.

He could not afford such sentiments. There is nothing more he could do for the Tenshi after him. He is powerless to intervene with their fates, not without subjecting them to the same one he is given. Determinedly ignoring the floating city, Kuon turns away and sets off in a random direction. Anywhere is fine.

As long as he is moving forward. 

_200 years ago_

It was Konoe who joined Kuon during Kuon’s nightly routine of looking up at the crack in the ceiling that revealed a glimpse of the sky above. Of course it was Konoe. Who else would it be? Kuon could not even hope to dream that it would be anyone else.

“Kuon-san, you can’t really see the stars from here,” Konoe pointed out, “If you want, I can take you up to the surface so you can look at them properly.”

“There’s no need for that,” Kuon said with a smile, “I’m fine just being here.”

Konoe remained dubious but decided to let the matter go. There was a moment of silence that passed between them until Konoe mentioned a name that never failed to make Kuon’s heart twinge.

“Kabane-san told me something interesting today,” he said quietly, “He told me not to tell you, but I think it’s best that you know.”

“...what is it?”

Konoe exhaled a breath.

“A baby was born today. He inherited the Tenshi curse.”

“...I see.” Kuon drew his knees together against his chest. “It’s been 50 years since the last one passed away from the effects of her own curse.” The girl was no older than 18 when she died. The news still leaves a bitter taste in Kuon’s mouth. “I wonder what took them so long to replace her.”

“I heard that the other babies they tried to inflict the curse on died in the process,” Konoe replied, “Seemed like their bodies could not take the strain.”

Kuon’s hand lightly touched the bandages on his arm, which covered the holy mark of the Nerve. 

“I can’t imagine it,” he said softly, “If I was ever in pain when they first gave that curse to me, I was too young to remember it.” 

The fate of the Tenshis after him was, however, one that had Kuon thinking of his own fate. If Kabane never rescued him from his confinement, if Kuon was to live out his life as the Tenshi at the hands of the Nerve,

Would he, too, someday die from the strain of his curse? Would he feel the pain his successors felt in their final moments? Would it have been a fitting punishment for an existence such as his where no matter immortal or not, all he could do was cause pain for others -

Konoe’s hand on his own was what broke Kuon’s reverie. He turned to the side to see Konoe smiling comfortingly at him.

“I know you’re having those thoughts again,” he said, “You always do whenever you learn there is a new Tenshi. This was probably why Kabane-san refused to tell you.”

Kuon smiled thinly. “Kabane hasn’t spoken to me in centuries. I doubt my feelings are the reason why he refrained from telling me about them.”

Konoe’s smile dimmed, that pained look returning to his friend’s face again. “Kuon-san, Kabane-san really cares for you. I know it’s hard to believe, but...he really did it for your wellbeing.” 

“Thank you for saying that, Konoe. But you don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.”

“No, you don’t understand -”

“Konoe.” Kuon’s smile looked even more fragile than before. It looked as brittle as the way Kuon’s body seemed to be as the centuries passed. “You’re a really strong person, you know.”

Konoe frowned, confusion written all over his face. “Kuon-san, what do you mean?”

“It isn’t just me and Kabane affected by this immortality. It’s you, as well. And yet...I’ve never once heard you complain. You carried on with life with just as much vigor like the first day I met you.” Kuon exhaled. “How is it...that you cope so well with everything? I envy your strength.”

“That’s because I have you two!” Konoe answered immediately, “If you two aren’t around, it would definitely be harder for me.”

“Konoe…”

“Besides,” Konoe mimicked Kuon’s posture by hugging his knees. He grinned at the boy beside him. “I chose this fate. Things like regret may be inevitable when the years begin to blur together that you can’t really tell them apart anymore but to be honest...sometimes I find comfort in them.” 

Konoe looked up at the crack in the ceiling, where one star could be seen glimmering in the sky.

“Back when Kabane-san and I were still fighting our ongoing war with the Nerve, I didn’t have all that much time to do the things I wanted to do. I rarely saw my family and friends, and there were days where I could not even afford to think about anything else but the war. Now...I’m given all this time in my hands, I might as well use it. It’s...well, it’s a wish granted, even if it’s in a very unexpected way.”

“I do get lonely sometimes,” Konoe admitted, “Watching your friends and family dying around you is still a hard thing to witness. But you two keep me grounded. You reminded me that we can go through this together.” He squeezed Kuon’s shoulder. “The thing that’s happening between you and Kabane-san… I know things are hard now, but I earnestly hope you two can understand each other again.”

Konoe smiled at him. “We only have each other in this world, after all.”

Kuon returned the smile and held the hand that squeezed his shoulder. He swallowed the lump in his throat and endured the pain that spreaded in his chest.

“Okay, Konoe.”

Many, many years ago when Kabane was still speaking to him and they were much closer than they are now, Kabane told him of the existence of District 12.

It is an area on the Ground where its inhabitants worship the dead and in return, some of them would be imbued with an inhuman strength and the ability to hear the voices of the dead. Some might call it a gift from their ancestors.

Kuon thinks it’s a curse - to carry the will of the dead on their backs, Kuon could not bear to imagine the pain that must come with it. Still, he finds himself empathizing with the people from District 12.

He is familiar with the feeling of being cursed.

During his rare trips to the surface, Kabane warned him to never stray too close to the district itself. Protective of their kind, the inhabitants would not hesitate to kill those who came too near. Although Kuon could not die, he could still feel pain.

So even now, when Kabane no longer speaks to him and they spend the years pretending the other do not exist, Kuon finds himself obeying his words. He observes the rundown city from a distance, watching as the sun casts shadow on the ruined buildings. The people seemed smaller in number compared to the last time Kuon observed the city.

Granted, that had been more than a couple of centuries ago, but still. For the population to decline this much within that time, something must have happened.

Kuon is not given the luxury to further pursue that thought when he feels something sharp prick his back.

“What are you doing?” a voice growls, “Are you planning to steal our resources?”

“Not at all,” Kuon replies calmly, “I’m just people watching.”

“Lies.”

The voice sounds child-like in spite of its ferocity and when Kuon glances behind him, it does indeed belong to a child. It is a boy probably no older than 7 or 8, with light pink hair and piercing eyes that remind Kuon of the jewels he used to be adorned with when he was still the Tenshi. The boy is unsmiling, his dirty hands gripping the spear tight. His clothes are tattered and worn out and he wears nothing to cover his feet from the soil beneath them.

“Are you from District 12?”

“What if I am?” the boy narrows his eyes.

“Will you tell me your name?” Kuon asks, “Mine is Kuon.”

“None of your business!” The boy lunges towards him, pulling his spear back before thrusting it towards him. 

Kuon stands still and lets the spear pierce him right through his heart.

The surprised look on the boy’s face almost makes the pain worth it. 

“What are you...an idiot?” the boy snarls, “I know you can easily avoid that.”

Kuon grabs the spear, tugging it back when the boy attempts to pull it out from his chest. “I’m not much of a fighter. My other two friends are better at that than I am. What I _can_ do is…” He pulls out the spear in one fluid motion, pushing it back towards the boy. “Not die.”

The wound on Kuon’s chest knits close immediately after, as though it is never there in the first place. The boy blinks at Kuon and his bloodied spear, before he takes one step back. 

“You’re a monster.” He doesn’t sound terrified. If anything, he sounds mystified. “Like me.”

“I find it hard to believe that someone as young as you is one.”

“You look weak, but you don’t die from a spear to the heart,” the boy points out. For the first time since they met, the boy gives Kuon a teeth-baring grin. “You’re a monster like me.” He giggles, like he is pleased by the fact. “My name is Vida.”

Kuon smiles. “Nice to meet you, Vida.”

Later, Kuon learns that Vida is the chosen child to inherit the curse of his people. Vida, although he keeps his distance from Kuon, humors the boy with the stories of his people, tearing apart grass and flowers as he does. Vida could hear the voices of the dead from as long as he could remember and someday, he will inherit the strength of the dead and bear their will.

“Aren’t you scared?” Kuon asks.

“Why would I be scared?” Vida asks in return, “I get to protect my people! Unlike the rest of the Ground, we’re always hungry and poor and people would always try to steal our resources. One day, when I’m older, I’ll grow so strong that no one will dare to mess with us.”

He puffs out his chest with pride. “I’ll protect Horca and Placer and everyone else! No one will bully us any longer.”

Kuon watches the boy with a mixture of fondness and a twinge of pain. To be this optimistic and eager to save and protect his people and to carry the burden of the dead on his small shoulders from such a young age…

He couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and pat Vida’s hair.

He had expected Vida to recoil. People from District 12 tend to be hostile towards others, so he had expected to be rejected. Surprisingly, Vida merely looks at him in curiosity, tilting his head to the side.

“I hope you grow up to be strong,” he says, “I hope one day, the will of the dead will no longer be a burden, but a source of strength for you to live on.”

Vida furrows his brows.

“It already is,” Vida says.

Kuon smiles wistfully. “I see.”

“You’re a strange one, Kuon. So strange that I don’t even feel the need to report you to my elders for lingering around here.” Vida stands up and faces Kuon. “You better go now. I’ll pretend I never saw you. But don’t expect the same thing next time we meet.”

He meets Kuon’s gaze fiercely. “For the sake of my people, I will someday cut down anyone who stands in our way, even if it’s someone I know.”

Such fierce words from such a small child.

“Mm,” Kuon says, “I don’t doubt that.”

More than a decade has passed since then.

Vida keeps his promise. There isn’t a day where Kuon hasn’t heard of Vida creating chaos above Ground. Konoe speaks of him with a tone that would describe a troublemaker. Kabane merely thinks he’s an annoyance Kabane couldn’t care to get involved with.

Kuon…

Kuon is a little proud of him.

One day, Konoe finds two bodies floating down the river into the underground city.

“They’re alive!” Konoe exclaims, “And one of them is a Tenshi!”

Kabane’s jaw clenching is the only thing that betrays his turbulent emotions. “I see. So the chaos above Ground leads to this, huh?”

Kuon stands beside Kabane, ignoring the way Kabane tenses immediately in Kuon’s presence.

“I see that we’re not allowed to leave it yet.” Kuon smiles wanly. “The stage of death.”

One day, another boy descends to the underground city. 

His name is Fuga, and he intends to bring Libel back to the ground, even if it means sacrificing Arme in the process. 

Kuon does not fight it when Fuga shoots him from behind, hitting him squarely in the heart. He welcomes the pain and lets himself fall to the ground. He closes his eyes and for once, lets his body sink heavily into itself.

This way he could pretend that the stage of death finally lets him go.

One day, not too long since Konoe reported that Libel and Arme left for the Ark to uncover the way to reverse the Tenshi curse, Kuon finds Kabane at the entrance of the underground city with a sling bag over his shoulders.

“You’re going to help them,” Kuon says.

It’s a new thing, being able to speak to Kabane again like this, even if it’s still stilted and awkward. It’s a nerve-wrecking but welcomed change to see Kabane look at him in the eye again, even though the gaze lasts for less than a few seconds.

“You told me I should. As their senior,” Kabane murmurs, “Besides...I have a feeling the method to undo the Tenshi curse is…”

“Will you do it?” Kuon asks, “If Arme asks for it from you?”

“...I would be a hypocrite to condemn him for it if he does,” Kabane answers.

There is a soft chuckle from Kuon. “Even after all these years, you’re soft-hearted, aren’t you, Kabane?”

“...I’m leaving.” 

“Wait.”

Kuon reaches out before he even realizes his hand is moving. He grasps Kabane’s sleeve, promoting the latter to look back at him.

“All those years ago, when I said I hated you -” Kuon bites his bottom lip. It’s been such a long time since he felt this emotion. Since he let it finally show his face and say out its name.

Fear. He feels fear.

“I didn’t mean it,” Kuon says, “I wanted to, but I just...even now, I _can’t_ -”

Reminiscent of the years before -

Of the years Kuon filled with uncertainty, anxiety and regrets -

Kabane somehow erases those feelings from Kuon’s heart the moment he presses their lips together into a kiss. Unlike their first kiss, this one is gentle. This one does not taste of alcohol. But Kabane’s lips feel just as soft and warm and like that night, Kuon desperately draws comfort from it. He clings on tightly and kisses Kabane back with as much passion as he could muster.

Like he wants to convey all the unsaid feelings from the centuries before in this one kiss.

“I’m glad I met you, Kuon,” Kabane whispers against his lips when they break apart, “All the pain...all the regrets… None of them change the fact that I’m so happy that I was given the chance to meet you.”

Kuon lets his tears leak through.

“Just like before…” he chokes, “Kabane, you’re so _unfair_.”

Kabane responds with another smile and another soft kiss.

The memory of those two things is what Kuon clings on as he watches Kabane leave.

The memory of those things is what Kuon continues to cling on to as his body begins to fade away alongside Konoe’s when they are finally allowed to leave the stage of death.

_Many, many years later._

  
  


“Arme?” Libel pushes the beaded curtains aside and sees Arme standing in the living space of their temporary home. “When did you wake up? I didn’t see you in your room and I -”

He pauses. He sees the grass stains at the bottom of Arme’s cloak and notices the scent of the night air surrounding Arme. 

“You...left the house without me?” Libel asks.

Arme finally turns around and Libel’s eyes immediately zeroes onto the bundles of cloth in Arme’s hold. 

“I had a dream last night,” Arme says, “One I could not ignore.”

“Arme, those are -”

“In my dream, there was a woman pleading for my help,” Arme continues, “Pleading me to save her child from being taken by the Nerve. I woke up and I just...I was moving before I realized. I looked and looked and finally…” Arme breaks into a smile. “Libel, I saved him. The baby that inherited the Tenshi curse. I also...I also saved his companion - the child chosen as the Tenshi’s companion.”

There are two babies in Arme’s hold. One has tufts of red hair, his throat marked with the familiar Nerve tattoo. The other has darker hair, bearing the Nerve mark on his arm and wrist.

“The Nerve will search for them.” Arme looks at Libel with a pleading look. “Let’s save them, Libel. I want them...to enjoy the world we envisioned.”

Libel approaches Arme and gently pulls the boy into an embrace, careful not to jostle the babies sleeping in his arms.

“Of course, Arme,” Libel murmurs against Arme’s hair, “We’ll look after them together. Give them a life free from as much pain as possible.”

Arme nuzzles the babies’ hair.

“Do you hear that, Iori?” he says to the dark-haired baby, “I will make sure the Nerve will never get you. You and Riku both.”

He kisses their soft cheeks, inhaling their scent.

“We’ll protect you, and show you the precious world Libel and I created for everyone.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments/bookmarks are appreciated and you can find me on Twitter at @tennssi0907 !


End file.
